


'Won't Be Back...'

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Jim arrives home to find Blair missing and a basically illegible note left. His search to discover where Blair has gone gives him more than a little insight in  to his friend's life.





	'Won't Be Back...'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sentinel Thursday prompt 'doorway'

'Won't Be Back...'

by Bluewolf

When Jim arrived home, fairly late, it was to find the answer phone blinking red with his message telling Blair that he had been delayed and a hastily scribbled note, fewer than half of the words legible, on the table - 'Jim... called... Naomi... won't be back... Thanks, Blair.' Not even sentinel senses could decipher the illegible words.

Jim read the note - such as it was - again, then crossed to Blair's room and looked in. All of Blair's collection of artifacts were there, but the drawers were open and his clothes were gone That was when Jim remembered what he had barely registered as he parked; Blair's Volvo wasn't there.

Blair's things were gone... Except - under the bed, a single, fairly large box. Jim pulled it out, opened it. It was full of notebooks... and one big leather-bound book that Jim recognized instantly - The Sentinels of Paraguay.

Now why had Blair left this? As an indication that he would, at some point, be coming back? On the other hand had he simply forgotten it, or were these notebooks something he thought he would no longer need? As well as the book?

Jim decided that there was one way he could, perhaps, find out. He was reluctant to invade what was, basically, Blair's privacy, but...

If only Blair had taken the time to write his note a little more legibly!

It was unlikely that there would be a definite answer in one of those notebooks... but at least their contents - or the contents of the most recent - might give him a starting point to work out a possible answer.

He soon discovered that these notebooks formed a sort of diary. Each was numbered but, in any case, they were arranged in order. It was sheer curiosity that made him open the first one, wondering just how old Blair was when he started it.

'May 24th 1975\. There was a party today for my sixth birthday. I don't think Mommy was very happy about it, she said there's nothing speshul about a birthday, but Gran said it was a sort of going-away party too, becos tomorrow Mommy is going away again but this time she's taking me with her. She said it's time. But I don't really want to go even though I'll be with Mommy. I like it here. I'll miss Gran and Granda, but mebbe Mommy'll come back sometimes to visit.'

God. Talk about a doorway into Blair's past! Any time Blair mentioned his childhood, he made it sound like so much fun... but this first diary entry seemed to indicate that at six Blair would have been more than happy to stay with his grandmother, who presumably had been looking after him for much of his life until then. Had his preference actually changed, had he had fun with his mother, his mother's life style, or had he simply found it easier to pretend?

Jim slipped that notebook back into its place and extracted another one. 'Jan 15th 1978. It still seems funny how warm it is here, in the middle of January. And even though it's the school summer break here, Naomi is still giving me lessons in the mornings. I like New Zealand, but I don't suppose Naomi will stay here much longer - not since she decided that Uncle Rod wasn't 'the one', and left Dunedin. Okay, she came to Auckland, saying she wanted to see something of the North Island after being in the South one for nearly four months, when she could just have left for another country. I think, though, she'll decide to move on soon.'

He frowned slightly. This entry was a queer mixture of 'I like it here' with an underlying hint of 'I wish Naomi would find somewhere she was happy to stay!'

He put that notebook back into its place and pulled out another one. 'August 20th 1982. Thank goodness, I'm back with Gran and Granda. Naomi isn't really happy about it, she'd rather we carried on the way we've done for the last seven years; she's sure she can teach me everything I need to know. But that's not everything I _want_ to know. In a way Naomi outsmarted herself. She said she'd show me the world, and she did. But.

'She loves travelling, she loves seeing new things, new places, but she doesn't want to know any details about the countries she visits. She's interested in the scenery of the countries but not the actual geography, nor the history, the way of life of the people... she only gets interested in people if she thinks they're being oppressed. She's said it to me over and over, how much the general public everywhere is exploited by the rich, who use 'jackbooted thugs' to enforce their bullying rules - I think she means the police. I can understand that, if a lot of the people are really poor, can't get work and are struggling to get enough to eat, but she says that even about countries where everyone seems to have everything they need and you don't see anyone picking through piles of rubbish on the street to try to find something they can sell for a few cents.

'And she says almost the same about trees - that they're exploited. Trees that are hundreds of years old are cut down for their wood. Then new forests are planted so that in thirty or forty years men can come along and cut them down for the wood.

'She says animals are exploited, kept on farms and then sold to be killed for their meat. She won't touch meat, hasn't let me eat any since she took me away from Gran seven years ago. But it doesn't seem to occur to her that the vegetables she eats are being exploited too, fields and fields of crops being grown just so they can be harvested and sold for people to eat. All right, a lot are probably annual plants that would die anyway in the fall, but they’re being harvested before they have time to flower and scatter their seeds.

'Well, I'm back with Gran again, and I can go to a proper school and learn things that Naomi didn't think were important and then, with luck, go to University. I want to study anthropology, and learn more about people in general than I ever saw in the countries Naomi took me to.'

Jim reread that entry. A doorway into Blair's past? Hell, this was a four-lane freeway!

And when he wrote that, Blair was thirteen... and Jim knew that three years later Blair had accomplished his dream; just sixteen, he was at university.

Jim slid the notebook back into its place and took out the most recent - and it was indeed the most recent, for the date of the last entry was June 14th - and it was still the 14th. So Blair must have left this box deliberately, having made one last entry. The writing - like the writing on the note - was barely legible.

'June 14th 1999. Naomi! I have to go to her. Have to.'

Jim frowned and flicked back a page.

'June 10th 1999. Simon offered me a detective's badge today. All I have to do is firearms training. He's in for a shock - anyone who's gone on as many expeditions as I have, the kind of expeditions I've been on - though not for the last four years, I grant you - has to know how to use a gun for protection against wild animals. It's not only carnivores that are dangerous. Some herbivores can be really dangerous too. People have been killed just walking a dog through a field of cattle because the cattle saw them as a threat.

'Although I didn't give Simon an immediate answer, accepting the badge does appeal. I've enjoyed working with Jim, and I believe I have helped him solve cases, quite apart from the help I've given him with his senses. Yes, I'm going to accept. No rush, though, the next Academy entry isn't for a few more months. I'll tell him next poker night.

'Naomi seems happy enough with Simon offering me a badge. I suspect she's just putting a brave face on things, though, trying to make amends; she knows how badly she screwed up.'

 _Nothing there to indicate... maybe she just needed time to think something up so that four days later she phones Blair and he drops everything to go to her. What the hell did she say to him?_ Jim wondered.

He crossed to the phone and checked back the last two or three calls. Nothing from Naomi - either she had called Blair on his cell phone or Blair had deleted the call.

Nothing to indicate where Blair could have gone... and Jim didn't totally trust Naomi. What had she said to coerce him away from the new career he had been offered?

He looked at the box of notebooks. One of them might have an address for Blair's grandparents, but...

Rainier! His application to the place would surely have given his home address... and they would still have that. Records like that were kept for years! But he couldn't do anything till morning.

He looked back at the box of notebooks.

No. He had already invaded Blair's privacy enough. Tempted though he was to discover more about the background of the man who was his best friend, he resolutely closed the box and pushed it back under the bed.

***

The address Jim got from Rainier didn't help; the building was one of several that had been demolished in 1987 to clear space for a large retail development. The only other address Rainier had for Blair was 852 Prospect.

Naomi had always referred to herself as _Ms_ Sandburg. Did that mean Sandburg was her own name, or had she adopted the name of the man who fathered Blair? He could, he supposed, try tracking down all the Sandburgs in America but that would take a very long time, even with police resources - and in any case if it was the name of Blair's unknown father, rather than that of his grandparents, the man might not even know of Blair's existence. It would be easier and faster to read through the notebooks in the hope that somewhere in them Blair had referred to his grandparents by name, unlikely though that seemed.

He went back to the phone and looked at the last numbers that had called. One was 'withheld', and he thought about that. Sometimes perfectly legitimate firms used a 'withheld' number... and the telephone company he used would surely have a way to identify that number. He checked.

It was a hospital in Seattle.

He could phone... but Seattle wasn't that far away. He spared a minute to phone Simon and tell him as much as he knew, then made sure everything was switched off before locking the door and rushing down the stairs.

He used his police lights as he raced through Cascade and headed down the road towards Seattle. There, he quickly found the hospital, parked and raced in to A&E – it was late enough that the actual hospital doors were closed and locked.

His police ID was already in his hand as he ran up to Reception, pushing in front of one or two people already waiting in line. “I need some information.”

The receptionist looked at the ID, glanced at his face and reached for a phone. She spoke briefly, put it down, and said, "If you wait beside that door – "pointing – "there will be someone here to speak to you in a minute, sir."

Jim nodded, glanced at the waiting line and said, "Sorry!" as he moved away.

He expected 'a minute' to be more like ten, but in fact it wasn't more than two before the door opened and an orderly appeared. "How can I help you, sir?"

Jim held out his ID again. "My partner got a phone call from here earlier today - Blair Sandburg. He did leave me a note, but whatever he was told, it left him too upset to write clearly. All I could make out was something about his mother.

"I was late getting home - Sandburg rents a room from me, as well as being my partner - and it's taken me till now to get here. But I have the feeling that he's going to need my support."

"If you'll come with me." The orderly - his name tag said 'Carl' - led Jim through some back corridors to an office. Inside, there was a woman - a secretary? - sitting at a computer.

Carl said quietly, "Dorothy, Mr. Ellison is with the police. He's looking for someone called Blair Sandburg, who got a phone call from here earlier today."

Dorothy hit a few keys on her computer. The way it was angled, Jim couldn't see the monitor. She nodded. "Yes - Ms. Sandburg was one of the passengers on a bus involved in a bad accident late last night." Her voice was very sombre. She raised her head to look at Jim. "The other vehicle involved was a fuel truck."

"Fire?" Jim asked quietly.

"Yes. At that time of night there were only two or three passing cars. The occupants of those did what they could to get people out, but they weren't able to reach a lot of them. The ones they did get out were mostly injured, and in one or two cases the injuries were made worse because nobody could take the time to ease them out gently - "

Jim nodded his understanding. "The important thing was saving their lives."

"Even if the injury then became life-changing. Some are still unconscious and unidentified. Ms. Sandburg was one of the luckier ones. She was conscious when she was brought in, able to give us her name and a contact phone number for her son before she lost consciousness. I'm afraid, though, that the surgeon who treated her had to amputate one leg just above the knee - it was too badly shattered to save."

"God, Naomi!" Jim muttered.

"When we phoned Mr. Sandburg we were able to tell him that, but that she was expected to be all right otherwise."

"Thank god for that," Jim said. "And prosthetics are improving all the time. I know I'm not actually related to her, but Blair is my best friend, and... I know it's late. Is he still here?"

It was Carl who answered. "I think he probably is. You want to join him?"

"I think he'll want me there."

"This way."

Jim paused long enough to say, "Thank you!" to Dorothy, then followed Carl as he led the way to ICU.

"I know a lot of hospitals limit the time and number of visitors in ICU," Carl said as they went, "but Dr. Fairfax is a great believer in letting badly injured patients have as much contact with family and friends as possible, even while they’re in ICU. And if by any chance it does turn out that they're worse than the doctors think, and they then die, the friends and relatives have had that much extra time with them. Here we are. If you need a member of staff for any reason don't hesitate to call."

"All I can say is thank you. We get good and considerate treatment from our doctors in Cascade, but they know us. You don’t, and your staff have been more than helpful."

"Thank _you_ ," Carl replied. He opened a door, stood aside while Jim entered, and closed it behind him.

Jim moved quietly forward. He was halfway to the bed when Blair glanced around.

"Jim! How...?"

"I guessed the withheld number was the call you got, and traced it to here." He reached Blair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Blair leaned against him. "They think Naomi should recover, but Jim - "

"I know about her leg," Jim said softly. "But at least she's alive."

"She's going to need a lot of care," Blair said. "She's going to need me."

"Us," Jim said. "I suppose your grandparents are too old - they must be... what, in their seventies now? Though they'd probably want to help."

Blair gave a low sob. "Gran has too much to do looking after Granda - he had an accident, two or three months before I met you, and he's in a wheelchair. Spinal damage. He's as independent as it's possible for him to be, but his legs are paralysed. I'm not sure I should even let them know about Naomi... Oh, she'll be mobile with a prosthetic, but can you imagine Gran's reaction on hearing that her daughter was disabled by an accident, just like her husband?" He stiffened and looked at Jim. "How do you know...?"

"I'm sorry - I read one or two entries in the notebooks you left, wondering if that might give me an idea of where you were. Just one or two, though."

"I knew, when I left them... " Blair said. "But you understand why I said I wouldn't be back for an uncertain amount of time?"

"Chief, your writing was so bad I could only make out a few words. All I could read was 'Naomi' and 'won't be back'. I could tell you were really upset, though." He looked consideringly at Blair. "What were you planning on doing?"

"I'm not really sure. I need to wait till I can discuss it with Naomi - but I thought I'd probably move in with her wherever she wanted to stay, to look after her for as long as she needed the care."

"Well, I've got a suggestion. You move upstairs with me, and we give your room to Naomi. We can hire a nurse to help with her care during the day - we couldn't have one full time because there isn't anywhere she could sleep, but we could certainly have one from maybe 8 am till 6 pm. Or maybe two, splitting the time."

"Jim, I couldn't afford - "

"But I can, and I want to help my best friend's mother. We get her the best prosthetic money can buy, and physical therapy till she's confident with it. After that, it's up to her, but she has a home for as long as she wants and needs it. As for your grandparents - give me their address and I'll go and see them, explain the situation to them. I'll check out the details of the accident with the police here - all I know is what the hospital could tell me. I'd like if possible to speak to the people who got Naomi out of the bus as well, and the police might know who they are."

"I'll write a letter for you to give them."

Jim grinned. "Just make sure it's more legible than the note you left for me."

***

In the end, though, William Ellison took charge, when he heard about Jim's plans. "I've got this big house, plenty of spare rooms - and I'd be glad of the company."

He provided a room for Naomi, and a bedroom and sitting room for her parents. He hired two full-time nurses to care for the two invalids - though Naomi didn't remain an invalid for long. As soon as she got her new leg she worked hard to get herself fully fit, although she did concede that carefree travelling all over the world was probably no longer feasible.

Jim and Blair spent a lot of time at William's house; and the combined Ellison-Sandburg 'family' was a very happy one. They were all aware that in some ways they were on borrowed time - three of their number were over seventy - but they all resolutely refused to think of that.

Blair finished his dissertation, successfully defended it and became Dr. Blair Sandburg. He applied for a job with Cascade PD as a forensic anthropologist - it meant he couldn't spend all his time with Jim, but he did work out of Major Crime and when he wasn't needed in his 'official' job he continued working with Jim as a detective.

The accident that had cost Naomi a leg had changed her life, and Jim was sorry for that; but he was now fully reconciled with his father, and he had surrogate grandparents in Joseph and Mary Sandburg. And Naomi relaxed the anti-establishment attitude she had always displayed, treating Jim in much the same way as she treated her son. Not that there was any danger of William asking Naomi to marry him; he treated her as his younger sister and she, it seemed, appreciated that.

Jim - and Blair - couldn't have been happier.

 

 

 


End file.
